𝐊𝐀𝐋𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐀 · "𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐞𝐥𝐮𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 𝐛𝐞𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐛𝐞𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐢𝐟𝐮𝐥 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐚𝐫𝐞."
After losing her job and being left at the altar, Dr. Fiona Page is left to pick up the pieces of a "picture perfect" lif...
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CW: Smut, masturbation, fuckboy!Bucky, trauma, divorce, and discussions of the death of a child.
I know we've just come out of a really tough time of year for a lot of people. If something in here triggers you, please go to findahelpline.com to speak to someone who can help you through it.
This is going to be dual POV. I'll be editing the previous two chapters to indicate that it's Fiona's POV. This is partly James's POV and you'll find out why he is the way that he is.
A/N: I've also made up what the interior of the University of Portland looks like, so if you're like "Thea, I go here. I've never seen this before and this isn't how this is laid out", I'm sorry but I'm going to be making stuff up about the interior of this school and basing it on my own university.
There is also going to be some academic jargon here and talk of some major theorists in this fic so I can give you a contextual low-down of who they are. This chapter features Emile Durkheim, who was the father of sociology. He specifically wrote about things like anomie which is "a state of normlessness: the lack of social cohesion and solidarity that often accompanies rapid social change." That, his labelling theory (which was further expanded on by Howard Becker in his 1963 book "Outsiders"), and his work on suicide are probably his most famous theoretical contributions to the field.
He couldn't stop thinking about her. Even as his hips pounded into the girl beneath him, he couldn't stop fucking thinking about her.
She invaded every single thought as he sat at the bar earlier in the night, whiskey sloshing around in his glass like an old friend. As he downed drink after drink, he thought about the way the moonlight lit her on the balcony at Sam's house. She was bathed in silver, a spotlight shining down on her as she sipped her drink.
Selene, the goddess of the moon, standing right in front of him in a tight black dress that he wanted to rip right off of her body with his goddamn teeth.
The drunker he got, the more intense the images became until his brain was a maelstrom of images and feelings he didn't know how to navigate. He had no map, no way back to who he was last night before he walked into that party.
